Pages

Friday, October 8, 2010

I realize you've had a blog post to read already today. However, it's Friday, and I think we need to kick the weekend off with some giggles and snorts and genuine laughter. In life, laughter is exceedingly important!

The second most common question I get is, " What's it like having seven kids?" So... I'm inviting you all to the Monster House, in print. Enjoy your stay!

*Disclaimer* Frazzledmomma is not responsible for missing guests that took matters into their own hands and decided to tour the monsters' bedrooms. I apologize, but it could be weeks before you are found. Ditto the laundry room and the front coat closet. All other areas of the house and yard have been deemed only moderately hazardous by the CDC and EPA. ;) Names in this story have been changed to numbers, to protect the "innocent". All these stories are true.

When you come to the Monster House and knock on the door, the first thing you will notice is the sound of a thunderous herd of elephants followed by shrieks and thumps and " It's MY turn to answer the door!" "Get away! I wanna answer the door" "no, ME!" "You opened it last time! It's MY TURN! MOOOOOM!" at which point I graciously and quietly snarl, " Back AWAY from the door. I'm your mother. I command you!" And, if you're still standing on our front step after all that, the booby prize is that I actually do manage to open it.

Usually I will be holding at least one twinnie monsterlette as I pry open the door and peel multiple monsters off the back of it. The expressions on the faces of our visitors never ceases to entertain and delight me. The Fed Ex and UPS men refuse to wait for me to answer any more. They've got "ding dong ditch" down to a science! We routinely see shock, horror, smirks, grins, wide eyes, and our favorite.. hands over the face in a defensive manner, as though the door they just knocked upon opens to the gates of Hell and demonic elephants are about to plow through it.

Once you make it through all that, it's no big deal. You'll be able to get a whole two or three steps into the entry way before being swooped down upon and the monster multitude starts asking rapid fire questions as to your name, your age, your occupation, blood type, annual income, marital status, purpose of your visit, and most importantly, " Are you MY friend or Mom's friend?" Take it from a veteran: tell them you are Mom's friend. It's the same thing as lying very still while a grizzly bear snorts and sniffs you. They have no interest in Mom friends. My monsters make me so proud. Law enforcement has nothing on their interrogation methods.

To the left is the "parlor". which isn't really a parlor, it's just a room that I decided needed to be mine and remain clean and vacuumed so visitors would be able to sit there and chat at any point in time. It's girly and has furniture in it that is NOT to be used for a trampoline or launching pad or diving board. So, of course, that's the room the monsters love the best. The twinnies have discovered that they can remove the sofa cushions and the springs on the seat of the sofa make a better trampoline that the real one. They get an impressive amount of air when jumping on the parlor sofas. The parlor sofas are also the depository for clean laundry. *sigh* We are, apparently, allergic to folding and hanging freshly laundered clothing and linens. There are generally 4-5 loads of clean, extremely wrinkled laundry on these sofas at any given point in time.

To the right is the family room, where once upon a time children watching insane amounts of television until I unhooked the satellite receiver in the middle of their show and hid it and the remote in an undisclosed location. TRAUMA! The television is now in the nursery and there is a tacky gaping hole in our entertainment center, which I am quite proud of, thank you! The carpet in the family room is one of a kind... a collage of dry macaroni from the sensory table, assorted shoes that were supposed to be put away, DVD cases, diaper wipes by the dozen ( the twinnies' newest and most favorite game is to throw diaper wipes), and the occasional piece of dehydrated play dough in colors nature never intended. The vacuum cleaner DOES exist. I know this because it stands in the corner, just waiting for the monster in charge of shoveling out that room to remember how to use it.

The kitchen is at the back of the house, accessible from the parlor or family room. This is where EVERYTHING happens. This is where #5 table dances on the counter, even though we have told him thousands of times that he is under age. This is where crayons are put in the toaster and melted, smelling like burning wiring and making the Daddy and I scramble around grabbing medications and children, thinking the house was about to burn down. This is where I perform my mad scientist experiments with the gfcf diet, and where incredible conversations about nights out, over hot chocolate or something hot from the oven, take place. This is the room NONE of the monsters want to rotate to, when it's time for chore rotation. The room that Heelys and sock skaters love. The room decorated regularly with Berry Bombs and raw eggs.

Down the hall.. well, we'll just call it the Hall of Horrors. The laundry room ,guest bathroom, kids' bathroom, nursery, and two bedrooms are there. None of those rooms are places that you want to visit. You'll be scarred for life both literally and figuratively.

While in the Monster House, you will hear things you have never heard before. Things like:

"MOM! #5 just poured all the shampoo and conditioner on my bed! Don't worry, he took the sheets off first!"

"MOM! #6 is stuck in the Foosball table again!"

"Mom, don't get upset, but......."

"MOM! #5 stole your blush and now he looks like an Oompa Loompa! Wanna take a picture?"

"MOM! #5 dumped out all the baby wash... again."

"MOM!"

And usually it's at about this point that I become ever so slightly frustrated and bellow, "I have COMPANY! Hush up! I'm your mother! I command you!" Ask my if the monsters listen.

But. The most important thing to remember during your visit is, the Monster House is, in reality, a home. A place for laughter and tears, joy, and sorrow. We have our own cheer leading section, there are always enough people to play Monopoly and Texas Hold 'Em, and even if one monster is mad at another, there is always someone to play with that you like.

So even though you may see and hear things that would strike fear into the hearts of the most courageous men during your visit, you'll also see and hear love. Okay okay okay. You'll also hear banging as you shut the door and walk down our front walkway when you leave. That would be me, banging my head against the wall and thinking, "Oh, that was SO humiliating!"

And now.. the BEST part! Our blog is expanding! YAY! We have decided that the blog is toooooo serious. But, there's excellent reasons for the seriousness and the resources and research and statistics and all that responsible adult stuff. So, we're adding a new page! MHMHMs is our newest arrival. It stands for Monster House Mental Health Moments. We'll be adding funny little tidbits on a regular basis, either from real monster house experiences, or experiences that readers send to us. The key here is FUNNY! Laughter is the best medicine.... for nearly any malady. If you can laugh, you know things will be alright. Warmest wishes, frazzledmomma